So, with this in mind, I've had something hanging over me like the frickin' Sword of Damocles. A fiction contest, specifically. The rules were pretty open, which should have made it easier, but, I dunno, I just wasn't feeling it. Problem was, I wanted to participate, and I'd told the proctor I'd do something. Submissions are due by 9pm tonight (after a month of being open), and as of 2pm, I'd still written nothing. I was, however, doing an excellent job of ignoring the problem. I just couldn't get started, that elusive spark was still not sparking my sparks. Somewhere around 3-ish, it hit me.
Bob was bored.That little phrase, three tiny words loaded with possibilities...that was all it took. I was off and hammering at the keys like a monkey on amphetamines. A little over an hour later, I'd knocked out about 1300 words full of action, humour, and used 12 of the 15 required items (rules stated at least 10).
Man, that felt pretty good.